


Cleaning the West Wing

by colorcoded



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: DAM Exchange treat, F/M, Missing Scene, depression metaphor, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-01-21 04:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorcoded/pseuds/colorcoded
Summary: Belle's presence in the castle brings new changes one by one. Shortly after the incident in the West Wing and the encounter with wolves, Belle returns to the West Wing, setting into motion something new.
Relationships: Beast/Belle (Disney)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42
Collections: 2019 Disney Animated Movie Exchange (DAM Exchange)





	Cleaning the West Wing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/gifts).

In the past two days, since the night when both Belle and the Beast had nearly died in the snow, Belle had not seen much of the Beast. He appeared by the large fireplace in the first-floor parlor after she had finished dinner each night to ask for her to examine, clean, and re-dress his cut, but other than that, it was almost like she had the castle to herself, almost like she herself was the master of the big, lonely castle. She ate her meals alone or in the company of some of the castle's servants (the order to let her starve had clearly been lifted - not that it had ever been respected); she walked through the quiet hallways of the East Wing in the mornings; climbed up and down the spiral stone staircases of the towers. Sometimes she imagined she was being watched or that she saw some movement in the upper halls of the castle, but when she turned, all she saw was the jumping of shadows cast by flickering torches.

She was even permitted to ride Philippe by herself through the landscaped grounds and gardens of the castle. As long as she didn't leave through the gates, of course. It didn't seem like anyone was checking, but nevertheless... The tall metal gates remained solidly closed, and after all that had transpired, Belle did not intend to pass through them again. She had decided that she would keep her promise, now that she was more certain that she _could_ keep her promise. And she was more aware of the dangers that lay beyond the castle.

Returning to the main castle, Belle paused at the foot of the stairs that led to the West Wing. She looked up at what she could see of the gloomy, poorly-lit corridor at the top of the stairs - like before, she felt almost beckoned by those shadows, by the allure of something made secret, illicit. Dare she intrude upon that space again?

Hardly a second of deliberation had passed before Belle found her feet climbing the stairs, driven forward step by step by curiosity and a stubborn sense of determination. She soon reached the upper landing and started walking down a hallway filled with twisted, demonic statues and broken glass and ruined paintings. She had not gone far when a streak of fur flew by her; suddenly, the Beast was there, crouched on four legs in the middle of the hallway.

Belle's heart jumped at the monster's sudden arrival, but she held her ground and schooled her features into a calm expression. After all, it was only surprise that she felt; she was no longer afraid of this creature, this beast, no matter how huge he was, no matter how loud his voice. And, she realized, part of the reason she had decided to enter the West Wing in the first place was because she had hoped it would bring the reclusive being out of hiding.

"Don't tell me that the West Wing is still forbidden?" she asked, a note of challenge in her voice. It was near the center of the issue that had resulted in the confrontation, in Belle's flight from the castle, in the encounter with wolves, in the cuts on the Beast's arm still wrapped in bandages, and neither of them had quite admitted fault in their actions.

For a moment, it looked like the Beast would rise to the challenge - he stood still, his eyes locked with Belle's, a hint of defiance about them. But then his resistance collapsed and he deflated a little, almost slumping. "It's not... forbidden. I just..." He paused before finishing in a low, gloomy voice, "...don't want you to come here."

"Why not?"

There was a long silence.

"I'll be more careful," Belle offered. "I won't touch anything. If I had known that the rose was not to be touched -"

"It's not - it's not that. It's..." The Beast huffed and did a half-turn in agitation. "It's hard to explain," he said, his voice getting louder as he spoke, clearly frustrated.

"You could try," Belle said, in a tone she hoped indicated she had the patience to help him through it.

"It's dark, cold, dirty..." The Beast swept a paw around the hallway. "You've seen it - it's filled with broken things - dangerous - things that could crumble at any moment... There's nothing worth seeing here, just - bad memories..." His eyes flicked to a toppled and broken wooden sideboard nearby. Belle's eyes swept around the corridor, taking in sets of parallel slashes in the curtains, fragments of smashed porcelain vases - the results, she assumed, of countless other temper tantrums before the one that had caused her to flee the castle.

"And there's too many personal things here," the Beast continued. "It's - it's not... suitable for guests... yet..."

Belle's brow furrowed in thought as she processed this answer. Was she imagining it? Or was he trying to express feelings of embarrassment?

The Beast continued, words coming out in a disorganized stream: "I wanted to clean it up - all this mess that I've made. It's only right that I should do it myself. But it's so... tiring... And all I see is all these - reminders of my failures. So that's why it's not suitable for anyone. Anyone but me." Another huff. "This isn't making any sense, is it?"

"I think I understand. You... don't want to let people in when the wing is in such a state," Belle said slowly, "but at the same time, it's too much to clean by yourself." That was at least the main part of the problem that was preventing anything from being fixed: being stuck in a cycle of shame and lethargy and shame again. But it seemed that there were other things going on - things that the Beast might not be willing to talk about yet.

"Maybe," the Beast said, running clawed fingers through his mane.

Belle could understand why someone might not want other people to see the results of their mistakes - she had certainly had that feeling before, and she told him as much. "But I just want you to know, from other people's point of view - from _my_ point of view - I don't mind seeing it like this." She indicated the ill-lit and debris-filled hallway. "There's nothing here that seems shameful to me. I think the servants think the same way."

"But... I..." the Beast protested.

"And if that's _not_ the case, there are ways to set it right. An apology goes a long way." Belle laid a hand gently on the Beast's shoulder. "You don't have to take on everything by yourself, and isolate yourself when you fail. I'd be happy to help. And I'm sure the servants would as well, in reasonable amounts. Let us help you."

The Beast's heavy brows lifted from those striking blue eyes in surprise and gratitude. "Thank you," he rumbled.

The next day, for the first time in years, servants walked through the West Wing, with purpose and hard at work, not merely to nervously bring something to the attention to the master of the castle. And with a ragged curtain torn down, for the first time in a long time, rays of gentle winter sunlight filtered into its dark corridors.


End file.
